


A Malfoy Marriage

by Lomonaaeren



Series: July Celebration Fics 2017 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chains, Collars, Courtship, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magical Bond, Marriage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, background Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, background Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11385597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: Draco and Harry have been together for years, and Harry is ready to marry Draco if that's what he wants. But Malfoy marriage customs are odd enough that Draco doesn't want to try them on a partner who's not committed. Harry agrees to a marriage with those old customs, not knowing what he's getting into.





	A Malfoy Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> Content Notes: Magical bonding, angst, collars, D/s dynamics

"You don't know what you're asking for."

Draco's voice was hoarse, and the wine in the glass in front of him twitched as he balanced it in his hand. Harry leaned forwards enough to clasp his wrist. Draco went still at once, the way he often did when Harry touched him there.

"I can't know unless you tell me, that much is true." Harry spread his fingers out and carefully rubbed them back and forth. The fire crackled softly off to the left, through the open door came the sounds of Winky and Kreacher making dinner, and the flat's windows showed the usual enchanted view of the ocean at night that Harry liked. It ought to be a relaxed enough atmosphere, but Draco only stared at him with motionless eyes. "Will you tell me?"

"Our ways aren't modern. Even Mother found them hard to adapt to when she married Father, and she was a Black."

Draco paused to sip some more wine. Harry kept his hand in place and waited. There had to be more than that. Harry had dealt with every kind of old-fashioned attitude as he and Draco got used to dating each other, including some Draco hadn't realized Harry would see that way.

"It--requires an absolute submission of mate to Malfoy," Draco said, and stopped. The fire played on the glass and his fingers and in his eyes. "It's symbolic. It doesn't mean that we need to continue that submission in our marriage. But the wedding needs to be that way. Or it doesn't take."

"You can't inherit?"

Draco nodded jerkily, not looking up. "Some of my indirect ancestors preferred to leave their property to distant cousins rather than get married in that way, either because they couldn't stand it or their would-be spouses couldn't."

Harry only shook his head, wondering what impression he'd given Draco that he couldn't endure a little submission. "I can do it."

"You have no idea how intense it is."

"As intense as my desire to marry you?"

Draco looked up this time. Harry leaned forwards and, with a deep breath, dropped the shields he always kept instinctively half-up now, letting Draco into his mind, to explore his desire.

Draco's breath hissed between his teeth, and he leaned away from Harry just as Winky and Kreacher appeared with the salads. "Merlin. You--you want me that much."

"Love you that much. Yeah."

Draco half-turned his head, so that Harry was looking more into shadows than into his eyes, and murmured, "Let me think about it. I'll--need to consider it."

Harry leaned further back with a satisfied little smile, convinced that he had at least made a dent in Draco's reluctance.

_And how bad can marriage rites be?_

*

Harry opened his eyes. Thanks to the paranoia he’d carried around with him since the war, he had wards up on the flat that were linked to his very brain. They alerted him the moment someone opened a Floo connection anywhere in the house, or tried to Apparate in, or flew on a broom overhead.

But they would also pick up traces of a familiar magical signature, and for now, they twanged at him. Harry rushed down to the drawing room, not bothering with a shirt.

Draco’s face floated in the fire. “I thought about it,” he said. “And I want the marriage with you, Harry. If you can bear the first step in the rites.” He took a breath so deep that it made his image waver. “Can I come through?”

“Of course,” Harry murmured, and spent a moment gesturing with his wand in the precise patterns needed to drop a small part of the wards.

Draco stepped through. He held his hands awkwardly in front of him, and Harry caught his breath when he saw what they contained: a slinky silver necklace, made of flat, plated links that showed it was really a collar, not a necklace. They sparked like moonlight, more white than grey.

“This is what you have to do first.” Draco kept stopping to lick his lips. If they were anywhere near as dry as Harry’s, that wasn’t a surprise. “You have to wear this. And you have to accept the way it links your mind to mine.”

Harry gave him a sharp look as he reached out to take the collar from Draco. “The link is one-way, isn’t it?”

Draco nodded slowly. “It lets me read your emotions and get a sense of your thoughts if you’re thinking one thing loudly enough. It doesn’t let you do the same for me.” He hesitated, then added, “Lots of Malfoy spouses in the past couldn’t stand the vulnerability of it.”

“I would already let you in whenever you like.”

Draco caught his breath with a snap of air. His eyes were locked on Harry, devouring his expression more than the flat, naked planes of his chest. “You mean that.”

“Of course I do,” Harry said gently, and placed the collar around his neck.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the links sank into his skin, and Harry stared down at what appeared to be a moonlit scar around his throat. And on the nape of his neck, as he discovered when he reached back with one hand.

The flash of the silver was nothing compared to the flash in his mind. Harry clutched his head in his hands.

“It’s the link. I know I shouldn’t have—”

Harry shook his head and held up his hand. “No. It was just sudden, that’s all. Give me a second.” While Draco hovered next to him, Harry carefully felt at the bond that had opened in his mind, feeling around it with his thoughts like he would use his tongue on a loose tooth.

Yes, there was _something_ there. It felt warm and muffled. Harry knew immediately that he wouldn’t be able to reach along it to the person on the other side. As Draco had said, it went one way only.

But that didn’t matter. Harry opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror across the room.

Chained and collared with silver. Shining with moonlight. One hand still raised as if he could trace the link that spread from his temple along the mental air to Draco.

And Draco standing behind him, seemingly frozen, his lips parted slightly with shock.

Harry turned around and lifted his head to kiss him. “I still want to marry you.”

And from the hungry, clutching way Draco’s arms descended on his shoulders, from how he bowed his head and used his lips, Harry knew Draco was feeling the truth of that sentiment through their bond.

*

“I can’t stand it.”

Harry blinked and forced his eyes open. He’d spent most of the morning and afternoon in St. Mungo’s, after coming there straight from a collapse in Diagon Alley. Of course, the collapse was explainable; he’d lost of a lot of blood to the wand of the Dark wizard he was dueling.

Draco stood by his bed, staring at him. He was trembling a little. Harry winced. He hadn’t had time before he fainted to think about what the burst of his emotions would tell Draco through the link.

“Hey,” he whispered, and held out a hand. Draco came and took the hand, bowing his head.

“I can’t stand you going into danger. I can’t stand your fear and anger searing through me like this.”

Harry swallowed. “Do you—do you want to cancel the marriage rites?” He had no power to remove the collar himself, something else that Draco said had driven Malfoy spouses literally mad in the past before, but Draco could.

“ _No_.” Draco stared at him again, and then shuddered. “I’ve already—I’ve got so used to the link in my mind.” He played with something in his robe pocket, his gaze still locked on Harry. “I was already asking you if you would mind continuing the bond beyond the wedding. It would be more comfortable.”

“We could do that.”

For a second, Draco’s frozen face relaxed, and he shook his head. “How can you put up with this?” he breathed, collapsing into the chair that stood beside the bed. “There are so many stories about how no one can. My mother had to take Calming Draughts on a regular basis to get through it, and you—I _know_ the only time you take them is when you’re forced to.”

Harry squeezed his hand. “I trust you.”

“And for that…it really is simple.”

“It really is.” Harry privately wondered if it was because he wasn’t a Dark pure-blood, and most of the people who would have married into the Malfoy family were, but he wasn’t about to ask that.

Draco bowed his head over their joined hands for a few minutes. Then he sighed and pulled the thing out of his pocket. Harry cocked his head at it. It appeared to be another collar, but considerably smaller than the silver one, which went halfway down his chest. This would clasp close around his neck, and it shimmered as if it was made of jade.

“I can’t ask you to stop being an Auror,” Draco murmured, “because I would never let you go back. But I can ask you to wear this. It’s an involuntary Portkey. If your adrenaline and fear get high enough, it’ll activate and bring you to the Manor, whether or not you want to.”

He looked straight into Harry’s eyes. Harry knew why. This could easily be one of Harry’s breaking points.

But for once, Harry’s abnormal reaction to danger was going to work in their favor. He almost never felt the same fear other people did, or the same battle-thrill. That made it a lot less likely that he would suddenly disappear in the middle of a battle and leave his fellow Aurors to survive on their own.

And Harry had to admit that part of him coiled and sighed in satisfaction at the thought of someone caring for him like this.

“Well, why are _you_ still holding it?” he asked, and bowed his head while Draco gaped at him.

Draco’s hands were steady as he reached out and clasped the collar around Harry’s neck, twisting it back and forth a little so that it would close in the right configuration. Or at least Harry thought that was what he was doing. Even after he’d clasped it shut, he did linger near Harry, tracing his fingers along the tendons in his throat.

“Thank you,” he said.

Harry felt the burning touch of his fingers, and the heat of his breath, long after he’d left.

*

“Why are you wearing all the jewelry, mate?”

“Part of letting Draco court me,” Harry answered, without looking up from his paperwork.

Ron was silent for long enough that Harry thought he might have decided not to ask. But then he came over and sat on the edge of the desk, and stared. Harry met his eyes and touched the silver links embedded into his chest.

“This one opens a bond so he can feel my emotions. And this collar will Portkey me to Malfoy Manor if my adrenaline and fear get too high.” Harry shrugged a little and picked up his quill again. “Sort of the kind that Hermione’s been badgering me to get for years. The involuntary part is different from what I think she had in mind, though.” He dipped his quill and started writing again.

“Does he have to wear the same thing?”

“No.”

“And you’re _okay_ with that?”

“Ron.” Harry patiently met his eyes, and Ron flushed and looked away. Harry spoke the words aloud anyway, because he wanted Ron to understand the whole point he was trying to make. “Would Draco have ever got these _on_ me in the first place if I wasn’t okay with them?”

And that was part of the attraction, Harry knew: that he had submitted willingly, with no other way for Draco to do it, because Harry’s will and magic were too strong to be conquered.

_It’s part of the attraction for both of us._

“Probably not,” Ron finally muttered. “But I don’t understand why you’re okay with this.”

“Because I love him, and I trust him, and I want to marry him, and this is part of being able to marry him.”

Ron only stood and looked down at him with dark eyes. Harry kept writing. It was very different from the way Ron had courted Hermione, the way his and Draco’s marriage would be different from his best friends’. He didn’t see what was wrong with having things be different. Wouldn’t life be _boring_ if they were all alike?

“What is your marriage going to be like, if this is part of the courting?”

“Exciting.”

“ _Harry_!”

Harry laughed and looked up, to see Ron’s face flushing the way it did whenever Harry mentioned something that could potentially be related to sex. “If you don’t want to know, you shouldn’t ask the question.”

“Fine, I reckon you must want this,” Ron muttered, and staggered out the door. “Now excuse me, I have to go find a sturdy mirror so I can cast an _Obliviate_ at it that’ll bounce and erase that memory from my brain.”

Harry chuckled and returned to his report. He didn’t know how long he’d been at it when a slight sound from the doorway attracted his attention, and he looked up to find Draco leaning there, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide.

“Is something wrong?” Harry’s voice went lower than normal in response to the sight before him, and Draco shook his head and crossed the distance between them in a few strides.

“I was going to tell you that the next part of the rites is being honest in front of people about what you’re doing,” Draco murmured, and wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, lowering his head to nuzzle at the collars. “You can’t be ashamed. And then you just went and did it in front of someone you knew would be probably hostile. You just _did_ it. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. You’re amazing.”

Harry tilted his head so Draco could get at the jade collar, and sighed a little when he felt the way Draco’s hands tightened. “I want to be whatever you need,” he said. “ _Thank you_ for giving me the chance to do this. Believing me when I said I wanted to.”

“You’re a natural,” Draco said, and his voice was heavy and dark. “I want—” He pulled back abruptly and looked around. “When is Weasley coming back?”

“I don’t know. But I could take a lunch.”

“That’s an _excellent_ idea.”

And Draco had never been so excited or reckless, pulling him out of his chair and towards the nearest entrance of the Ministry, his eyes so savagely beautiful that Harry was panting long before they Apparated.

*

“The next part of the rites is that you have to show respect for Malfoy traditions.”

Draco had said that yesterday, and it had been ringing in Harry’s head since. Like the way he’d showed honesty about their courting in front of Ron, he thought, it had to be spontaneous, which meant he couldn’t ask Draco for directions.

It would have been easier if he could. After all, what was he doing with the collar and the necklace if not respecting Malfoy traditions?

But he could imagine Draco’s sardonic eyes in the back of his head, and so he went to work, and wrote reports, and attended a boring meeting about spells they were no longer allowed to cast anywhere near Muggle London, with the requirement humming in the back of his head. It wasn’t until he started home that a possible way to respect those traditions hit him.

Harry smiled a little as he Apparated to Diagon Alley. He knew what he wanted was somewhere around here—not the Magical Menagerie, but another shop. He would have to wander a little.

And convince the shopkeeper that, yes, he needed one the _natural_ color, not Transfigured or covered with an illusion spell that would make it appear that way. But he won the argument, and went home grinning.

The delivery ought to happen tomorrow.

*

“Not everyone likes waking up to a peacock delivered to their front gates, you know.”

Harry cocked his head back. Draco had already been on the lift, although Harry hadn’t seen him, and now he placed a hand on Harry’s multiple collars as he leaned in to speak into his ear.

“Not everyone does,” Harry agreed, and stretched his neck so that Draco could slide his hands down between Harry’s robe and his back. He gasped aloud as Draco curved his fingers into deliberate claws and scratched, once. But there would be other people on the lift in a second. He had to control himself. “But a Malfoy would. White peacocks on the grounds are a Malfoy tradition.”

“You did well.”

Draco breathed those words and then let him go. Harry stood up and straightened his robes just as some Unspeakables came crowding in, and Draco forced his way through them, arching an eyebrow at Harry.

Harry only smiled back at the curious glances he got, and admitted to himself that his blood was racing at the thought of the next step of this courtship.

*

“On your knees.”

Harry didn’t even think about it. It was the tone, not the reminder of the courtship they were going through, that made him drop. He tilted his head back so that he wasn’t hiding his eyes. He vaguely remembered Draco telling him not to do that. Something about Malfoys needing to see a potential spouse’s face at all times, so they would know the desire to wed was still sincere.

Draco bent towards him, one hand trembling. A second later, he lashed out and took Harry’s chin prisoner. Harry remained still.

“Hold still,” Draco said, although Harry could hardly do otherwise right now. But he didn’t point it out. It would only annoy Draco. And Harry thought he was doing well so far.

_If this test is what I think it is._

Draco dropped Harry’s chin and moved in a slow circle around him, eyes fastened on Harry’s. Harry only looked back, peaceful and uncomplicated. Draco finally nodded and said, “You’ll do.” Then he stopped in front of Harry and unfastened his robes and took down his trousers in one swift movement.

Harry didn’t have to hear what he wanted. He leaned in and opened his mouth, and let himself engulf Draco and be engulfed.

The blood sang and pounded in his ears as he sucked, as Draco rocked, barely giving him the time to breathe. It was wilder and faster than any time they’d done this before, and Harry had to clench his hand on the floor. He was pretty sure the whole point of this exercise wasn’t to give the possible Malfoy spouse any relief.

Draco abruptly reached over and grabbed his ears. Harry spasmed with the pain, but Draco pinned him to the floor and stretched him out and began thrusting into his mouth from that angle.

 _If that’s what he wants, that’s what I’ll give him,_ Harry decided, and relaxed his mouth as much as he could, and then the muscles of his throat, and then his whole body. He had to. Draco could get deeper from this angle, and he was thrashing and writhing atop Harry, driving the breath out of his lungs that way, too.

But even with Draco’s eyes almost maddened with pleasure, and the pain that sang through his body, Harry retained his faith that Draco wasn’t going to hurt him.

Draco came with a grunt and a howl. Harry lay with his head rolled backwards, his breathing rough, after Draco had pulled out and wiped his cheek with one hand. He listened, eyes half-closed, to Draco walking away and then coming back after the sound of running water. He gently mopped Harry’s face with the cloth.

Harry had the sensation that he didn’t often look away while he was cleaning up his own come. But Harry didn’t have the ability to open his eyes and return that gaze, much as he would have liked to. He had to slump there and slowly come back from the faraway place Draco’s handling had thrown him into.

He only really returned to the present when Draco tossed the towel aside, cast a Lightening Charm, and scooped Harry up. “You’ll rest in the bed with me tonight,” he murmured. “And you’re not permitted to come.”

Harry only nodded, eyelids drooping. He was a lot more tired than he was after Auror cases and chasing someone around. He didn’t really know why. But even moving his fist down to his groin would take too much effort.

He curled up next to Draco and closed his eyes. The smooth sensation of Draco’s hand moving across his forehead was the last thing he felt before he tumbled asleep.

*

“Why are we here?”

“Because the final test before the actual wedding is the test of fear.”

Harry shut his mouth and followed Draco into the Forbidden Forest. The only thing he could think of was that Draco thought Harry would be afraid to see the clearing where he had gone to face Voldemort. That wasn’t true, and Harry wondered if he should point that out, if the courtship would fail if it wasn’t the submissive spouse’s actual greatest fear.

But the straight line of Draco’s back didn’t encourage questions. Harry followed him until he was sure they were taking the path that would lead to the clearing. He started to clear his throat.

“You’re right, that’s far enough,” Draco said, and he turned around. His hand was stretched out to Harry, clenched in a loose fist. As Harry watched in bewilderment, he opened his fingers, and a small grey shape sparkled on his palm.

The Resurrection Stone. Harry had actually taken a step back before he could stop himself.

“The third Deathly Hallow,” Draco said. His voice was relaxed, but his face looked as if someone had carved a death mask of it. Harry stared wildly into his eyes. They were hard to see with the light and shadow falling through the leaves. “Take it, Master of Death.”

Harry could feel his chest shaking, his hands doing the same thing, and the leaves at his feet trembling as he shuffled involuntarily. He had been beyond glad that he’d thrown away the Resurrection Stone when he did some more research on the Hallows after the war. As long as he didn’t have all three in his physical possession, then he wasn’t the Master of Death. He wouldn’t become immortal and tormented by visions of the dead, and tempted to call upon them, either as spirits or Inferi. If he could live without using any of them except the Invisibility Cloak—and that, only as long as he didn’t use it to hide from Death—then he would die at a normal time, and it was possible the Hallows might even break and become useless.

He had told Draco about that after he’d been dating for a year, how his greatest fear was no longer a Dementor, but going on and on, and losing his place in the living world as he slid into an obsession with all the people who had died during the war.

Now…this. And Harry didn’t even know what the right choice was, if he was supposed to pick up the Hallow and face his greatest fear that way, or if he was supposed to back off and show that he was afraid.

He stared into Draco’s face. Draco looked back, implacable. The wrong choice, and Harry would fail the test, and he knew they could never marry.

But then Harry straightened his shoulders. What could he do when he didn’t know?

He could trust Draco.

He shook his head, reached out, and folded Draco’s fingers back around the Stone. “You can keep it, if you want,” he said quietly. “It’s a possession I fear and loathe, but I surrender it to you. I’ll trust that what you do with it won’t harm me.”

Draco stared at him. Harry couldn’t see his eyes or his face at all, now. They were too deep in the spangled, shifting shadows from the branches. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s yours.”

Draco abruptly turned and threw the stone into the Forest as far as he could. Harry felt his heart stutter for a different reason. Had he failed the test? Was Draco angry because of that?

But then Draco grabbed him and pulled Harry against his chest, holding him as _he_ shook, and Harry understood better. He wrapped his arms around Draco in return.

“I hoped you’d refuse it,” Draco whispered. “If you’d claimed it, then you would have faced your fear, but you would have given up a part of yourself in order to do that, and I don’t think we could have been together. If you’d only backed away, that would have nothing to do with me, and I couldn’t have accepted it as the right response, either. You faced it and brought me into your response. You did it _right_.”

He pulled back and stared into Harry’s face, reaching up to trace the curve of his cheekbone. “I could never have imagined finding anyone I wanted to marry,” he confessed, his lips barely moving. “The few people I dated who were close could never have passed the rites. But you have, Harry.”

He paused, his face altering again, but this time Harry could see the change in his eyes, and was ready for it. “Now we only have the wedding itself to get through.”

“We’ll do it,” Harry breathed, and leaned in to kiss him until Draco was blushing and as breathless as Harry was. “Now, take me home. Otherwise, I’ll be asking you to fuck me right on the Forest floor.”

Draco Apparated fast enough that a few leaves came with them, but Harry forgot about them the minute he felt Draco on top of him, warm and burning and relentless and alive.

*

“I do not think you know what you’re doing.”

Harry turned away from the mirror in which he’d been adjusting his disgustingly expensive dress robes. They were made of green silk, lined with silver and gold and blue, and they flashed distractingly in the corner of his eye as he inclined his head to Narcissa. “Why is that?”

“Because I nearly collapsed beneath the vows. And I am a Black.” Narcissa folded her hands in front of her. She wore white robes with a glimmering black shawl draped over her shoulders. Harry had no idea what the symbolism of that was supposed to be. He just knew it looked nice. “You are only a half-blood.”

Harry looked at her for a long moment before he replied, “I’m the half-blood who defied Voldemort and destroyed all his Horcruxes. I’ll be fine.”

Narcissa stared at him, her eyes open wide. Harry wondered if she hadn’t expected him to bring that up. But a second later, she shook her head and said, “Nevertheless—”

“I’m fine,” Harry said. “But thank you for worrying about me.” He smiled at her flushed cheeks and slipped out of the dressing room, down a corridor lit by the floating sunlight from open windows, and out into the gardens.

It would be a small wedding, only Ron and Hermione there, along with Draco’s parents. Lucius clutched the head of his cane when he saw Harry, and frowned at him. Harry only shrugged back, a little. He knew Draco’s parents didn’t like him much.

It didn’t matter. They wanted him to marry Draco because that was what would make their son happy.

Harry took a moment to steady his stomach and his breath. Draco waited at the far end of the gardens, under an arbor of white roses that Harry would need to walk through, and his robes echoed the shifting colors of Harry’s.

Harry smiled helplessly at him. Draco had a small box hovering in front of him with the rings they would wear inside it. Harry would continue to wear the collars until after the wedding night was done.

Hermione had questioned Harry closely whether this was what he wanted, because he would be bound with so many different symbols while Draco would only wear his ring. She had looked reassured when Harry had looked her straight in the eye and smiled.

And Draco looked the same way now, although _he_ seemed to barely be breathing as Harry walked under the arbor. Harry stopped in front of him and nodded, holding out his hand. Draco swallowed and opened the box.

There were two rings there, both platinum, as Draco had said they would be. The tiny stones on top of the right one were green, but Harry didn’t know if they were emeralds or jade or what. It didn’t really matter, he thought, as he watched Draco slide the ring onto his finger and wrap the tiny chains on the sides of the ring around his knuckle.

The air around them began to hum, and then sing, with magic. Harry felt the sensation on the bottom of his tongue and the back of his knees. He swayed forwards, and Draco’s arms were there to hold and support him.

“Harry. Harry? You need to put my ring on.”

He did. Harry took a deep breath, feeling as if the ring _he_ wore weighed much more than it really did, and pulled the second one out of the box. It was light and cool in his hand as he extended it to Draco, and Draco, never looking away from Harry’s eyes, held out his finger for it.

Harry slid the ring onto Draco’s finger. The sapphires that studded it flashed radiantly, white for a moment as if they reflected the arbor of roses, and then clear as if they had turned into diamonds, and then blue once more. Draco bent over and kissed the band of the ring, then kissed Harry’s mouth.

“We need to exchange our vows,” he murmured.

Harry opened his eyes and tried to recall the words that he had drilled so intensely with, which now seemed dull and distant compared to the pressure of the magic against his ring finger and temples. Then again, he knew that pressure wouldn’t go away until he had successfully repeated the vows and sealed the marriage.

He opened his mouth, and began to speak. Draco focused on his lips, one hand softly stroking the side of Harry’s face, so slowly that he hadn’t even made it all the way down to Harry’s jaw by the time the vows came to an end.

“I, Harry Potter, accept binding and submission into the Malfoy family. I trade my name of Potter for Malfoy. I accept the rules and strictures of my adopted family. I do this out of love for Draco Malfoy and because I would rather give up all to have him than remain free and separate from him.”

The magic pressed down once more, to the point that it felt like strangling hands on Harry’s throat, before it soared away. Harry breathed out painfully and then focused on Draco, who was cupping his jaw now.

Before he started speaking his own vows, Draco gave him a smile more brilliant than the sapphires.

“I, Draco Malfoy, accept Harry Potter into the Malfoy family. I pledge to protect him and never let anyone harm him, even in the slightest and most indirect ways. And I do this out of love for Harry Potter, and because I want him in ways I’ve never wanted anyone else.”

Harry heard both Hermione and Draco’s parents gasp. Ron was probably too stunned to make a noise.

Harry was pretty stunned himself. Those last words had _not_ been in the wedding vows.

Draco kissed his chin, his mouth, his eyelids, and his forehead. Then he drew back and said, “Mother, we’re waiting for the anointing.”

Narcissa moved forwards slowly, under the white roses, watching Harry from the corner of one eye as though she had no idea what he had done to enchant her son, but wished he would stop. She dipped her fingers into a jar of sweet-smelling oil that shimmered like red gold when she pulled it out, and anointed first Draco, and then Harry, in the same places that Draco had kissed Harry.

“Be welcome into the Malfoy family.” Her voice gained strength as she spoke, and she stepped back and looked between them. “Be bound in the vows you have agreed to. May you never forsake them.”

Lucius stepped forwards in his place, with a steel sword that made Harry swallow a little as he watched the point gleam. If Lucius just _accidentally_ happened to stick him with it…

Draco squeezed his arm, and Harry smiled up at him before he relaxed. Draco would never let that happen, of course.

Lucius tapped both of them on the shoulder, Draco on the right, Harry on the left. “Be welcome into the Malfoy family,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “Be touched by steel. May it give its strength to your union.”

He stepped back and rested the sword on the ground. Harry could see the slight scowl on Ron’s face from the side. He and Hermione would ordinarily have participated somehow in the wedding. Many wizarding weddings were a mixture of tradition and special things important to the individual couple.

But because Malfoys did everything differently, only Malfoys could participate in it.

Harry thought for a moment about having a second ceremony later that his best friends could do something for, and then Draco caught up his hands and kissed the backs of them, staring intently into his eyes.

“Shall we go in for the wedding dinner?” he whispered.

_And not far behind that is going to be the wedding night._

Harry waited for Draco to release his hands, and reached out to trace Draco’s ring with the side of his own, emeralds—or whatever they were—and sapphires glimmering side by side. “Let’s,” he said, voice thick with desire and contentment.

*

“Ah, Harry.”

Draco’s voice was so thick that it made Harry’s limbs tingle. He turned away from looking out the window. Draco was moving slowly towards him, shedding his robes as he did so. He draped them over the hook in a corner of the room and spent time looking at Harry.

Just _looking._ But Harry, who was naked except for his collar and chain and ring, had never known eyes could hit him so hard. He flushed, and held his chin up. He didn’t have to distrust Draco. Draco would treat him as he deserved to be treated.

As Draco stepped up to him and rested a hand beneath his chin, Harry realized, with a sudden, soft ache inside him, that that was the first time he had ever really acknowledged how, exactly, he deserved to be treated. He no longer thought, with a buried corner of his brain, that he somehow deserved to be bullied or made fun of in the papers or taunted. Draco had cured that.

Draco opened his mouth. Harry didn’t know what he was about to say, and he didn’t really care. He leaned forwards and kissed Draco hard enough to make him almost fall.

Draco clamped his hands on Harry’s shoulders and held him upright. Harry moved his lips downwards, from Draco’s mouth to his chin. Then he bent so that he was kissing Draco’s chest, and his own softly cold chain brushed against Draco’s skin.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Draco’s voice was thick, wavering. Harry smiled up at him and dropped to his knees.

To his surprise, Draco yanked him back to his feet with a touch on the collar. “Not tonight,” Draco said. “We did that. It was wonderful. But I want to do something else. Lie down on the bed and clasp your hands behind your neck.”

Harry did, wonder wandering through him, his cock stirring even though it was already as hard as it could be. Draco smiled at him and braced his arms on either side of Harry’s body. He looked at him again, in a leisurely way, from his eyes down to his nipples and his chain. Harry stayed still.

Then Draco began to play with him.

It was so light and delicate that Harry didn’t know if he would have felt it if he wasn’t looking down. Draco skimmed his ribs, outlined his hips, found his way to Harry’s collarbone and blew across it. Harry shuddered and lifted his cock towards Draco. Draco ignored that, and only smiled.

The desire in that smile made Harry glad he was lying down. Draco bent over and kissed him, once, and then settled fully on top of him, sliding a pillow beneath his arse with solicitous murmurs, conjuring lube with the wand Harry hadn’t even realized he was still holding.

Most of the time, Harry wouldn’t have been able to help noticing that wand, given his Auror training. Now, he leaned further back into the pillows and reveled in the golden feeling percolating through him.

He had nothing to worry about. Draco was going to treat him well. He was going to _love_ him. And now that they were married…

Harry might be bound by the vows that Narcissa didn’t think he was man enough to withstand, but Draco was bound, too. He had told Harry that no Malfoy had ever divorced a spouse. And that was enough for Harry to relax. Someone was with him for always.

Draco used his fingers in the way he had used his hands on Harry’s body already, playing with him as if he was fragile, then as if he was ticklish, and finally—after Harry made a few breathless threats—working his fingers in where Harry wanted them. Then he slipped slowly inside Harry’s body. Harry reached up with a sigh and clutched his arms.

“Ready?” Draco whispered.

“You have no idea.”

“I might, by what’s shining in your eyes.”

But Draco didn’t speak again, instead settling into a steady flow of rocking and shifting motions, inside Harry as if he had never wanted to be anywhere else. Harry knew he had to blink sometimes—Harry did, after all—but it really did seem as if he was staring at Harry the whole time, without glancing away.

The moment arrived when Harry knew he would have to come, but he regretted it, knowing that Draco hadn’t yet. But even as his hips tensed and lifted, and a whimpering breath escaped his lips, Draco leaned forwards and exhaled harshly. Harry stroked his face and murmured encouragement.

Draco ended up coming just a second after he did.

Afterwards, Draco collapsed down and lay beside him, cleaning them both up with a wave of his wand. Harry didn’t mind the slight sting of the charm on his skin. He stretched alongside Draco and half-closed his eyes. He felt just tired enough to drift in that warm moment that happened in the mornings when he knew he didn’t have to wake up in order to go to work _quite_ yet.

“I can take them off if you want.”

Harry sighed and forced his eyes open, because of course Draco would jolt him out of that moment just when he was getting comfortable. But he saw Draco’s hand resting on the chain, his fingers pointing at the collar, and he shook his head.

“But you don’t have to wear them anymore,” Draco said, staring at Harry as if he thought he had gone mad. “I mean, they were symbols of your submission during the courtship rites, but we don’t _have_ to have that kind of relationship now.”

“And why wouldn’t I want to wear an emergency Portkey and a symbol of how much you love me?” Harry asked, and arched his eyebrows pointedly. “The only thing I’m going to ask is that you adjust the bond through the chain so that we can both feel each other’s emotions.”

Draco blinked and stared, and then leaned down to kiss him hard enough to split his lip. When he murmured condolences for the broken skin and tried to make up for it, though, Harry just laughed.

“You’ll have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

And Draco fell asleep with a hand splayed over his belly, and Harry with the certainty that he was understood.

And loved.

**The End.**


End file.
